Inverted Reflection
by Domenic
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a Princess who angered an Enchantress.  Selective Reversal AU of the Animated Disney Film.
1. prologue

Title: inverted reflection [prologue/?]

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a Princess who angered an Enchantress. (Selective Reversal AU of the Animated Disney Film)

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney's Beauty and the Beast or anything related to it.

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a Princess who loved to read. Always she wandered around the castle with a book in her arms, going to the library more often than her own room.

After her father died in his latest experiment gone awry, and her mother dead soon after of a broken heart (the polite way of putting it), the Princess spent more and more time in the library.

She grew imbalanced with her passion-books became the only thing to move her.

One night during a bitter storm, the Princess was too engrossed in a tome to hear the entreaties of an old woman begging for shelter outside.

Finally she angrily slammed her book shut, unable to block out the noise. In her world, all she wanted was silence, nothing but the crinkle of a turned page, the flip of a leather cover.

The Princess wrenched the door open and demanded that silence she craved. The old woman, bent over with a basket full of different flowers, withdrew one rose from it, and offered the solitary bloom to her, as payment for shelter from the storm.

With narrowed eyes and arched brow, the Princess asked if she were a witch. She told the old woman she looked like one from her book.

Bowing her head and grinning a one-tooth smile, the old woman answered 'yes.'

Interested, the Princess let the old woman in, demanding she teach her magic.

And so the old woman stayed at the castle for a time, educating the Princess in the ways of enchantment, always watching her young, eager pupil. Observing her dispassionately try little, minor and harmless spells in front of her servants-and even on them, too. Noted how they ultimately did not quell her experimentation, or even truly voiced their concerns about their mistress' decision to practice such arcane and supernatural arts.

The old witch promised her that the rose she had offered, actually enchanted, would be hers once she was ready.

So too would the mirror go to her-similarly bewitched to show the holder almost anything their heart desired. They used it in her lessons, to see far off places and observe other magicks at work. Sometimes the old woman even indulged the Princess, letting her use the mirror outside of lessons to look at more of the world, watch animals even more extraordinary that the ones she kept in her menagerie.

The old witch summoned all sorts of new books for the Princess to study and devour. But the largest and oldest book brought to the castle was for the witch's own use while staying on as teacher there. The Princess was never to touch that.

Finally, the old witch was satisfied enough with the Princess' progress, and gave her the rose and the mirror as promised, telling her they would be her conduits, talismans to focus her power through.

"I leave tomorrow night. There's little else I can teach you at this point. Continue your studies, exercising the utmost caution."

With a practiced look of grace, the Princess accepted the gifts, while her mind calculated.

That night, the Princess crept into the rooms given up to the witch while she stayed to educate her. Her hands drifting along the shelves and scanning the spines, the Princess finally found the magic tome she'd never read, what her teacher had always forbid to her.

The book was so large, it could only be read laid on its back. The Princess sat before it, flipping the pages.

She paused on a chapter about weather manipulation that caught her eye, reminding her of the stormy night the old witch had first arrived on.

The Princess tried the spell, chanting the words.

She drifted to the window in wonder, as the skies turned dark, and the clouds began to grow, the snow shift into something hard and cold and pounding, the winds shrieking louder and louder…she'd done that...

The Princess tore herself away from the window, eager to try another spell from the grand tome.

She found a paragraph on shape shifting, and immediately tried it out. To be someone else, a completely different creature, sounded so intriguing, even better than her menagerie, even the enchanted mirror.

But alas, nothing worked-wolf, mandrill, buffalo, all manner of beast-but no matter how much she focused and chanted the words and drew the necessary runes onto parchment, she changed into neither creature. Even when the Princess retrieved her new rose and mirror as a conduit and boost to her power, even had the mirror show fantastic images of the animals she wanted to be, nothing happened.

When the storm she made shrieked louder, she abandoned the book, returning to the window and watching her work with a more excited pride, not the relaxed arrogance she bore as high ranking nobility.

So engrossed in the storm she wrought, hearing it wail and scratch at her castle, the Princess did not notice the sudden shadow looming over her until the old witch spoke, "You don't realize what you've done, do you?"

The Princess turned her head around-her dispassionate rebellion soon evaporated in the face of the old witch glowing and melting, transforming into a tall, straight-backed beauty with golden hair and piercing blue eyes.

Even the Princess was overcome with reverence-she immediately bowed before someone of such might and knowledge.

"The storm can be dealt with-the other, however, will prove trickier, if at all possible," said the Enchantress in a low, cryptic voice. When the Princess managed to look up at her, she thought there was something dark and guarded in her eyes. She felt a jolt when the Enchantress' beautiful ruby red mouth tilted ever so slightly, as if torn between a deepening frown or a slight smirk-the only hint she gave that she recognized what the Princess had just observed.

Either way, she continued solemnly, "I forbade you from my own personal book. Everything else was open to you-the rest of my vast library; my most precious knowledge shared with you; even before my arrival, your own books, your servants and this very castle-but none of it was enough for you."

The Enchantress toyed with her wand, pale spindly wood in her grasp.

"Not even this enchanted mirror and rose, which you have abused just as much as my book-just as much as everything else."

Then the Enchantress said the words to immobilize and silence her, and the Princess had no time to mount a defense, had no power to even set one up that would be match for someone like her.

"From this day forward, you are cursed-as well as this castle, your servants." And so the Enchantress tapped the wand on the Princess' forehead.

She screamed and flailed, released from the blinding and silencing charm-but everything had gone far too dark and far too fast, and it was then the Princess finally realized the depth of the Enchantress' rage.

"The books you grew lost in are now closed to you."

When the Princess banged into the desk, she finally dropped to the floor, sobbing and begging for mercy, the horrible possibilities consuming her once bright imagination.

"The servants, whom you valued less than your library, are now what you _once_ saw them with your own eyes as-nothing more than objects."

The Princess reached blindly for the Enchantress, following the sound of her voice, but it seemed to come from everywhere now.

"However, it isn't irreversible." With a flick of her hand, the Enchantress had the mirror and the rose fly off the ground and onto the desk before the Princess could step on them in her mad scrambling. "I'll leave instructions to lift the curse with your servants-_they'll_ read it to you."

The Enchantress gently fitted the rose and the mirror in the Princess' trembling hands, advised her to keep both safe-they were still, to an extent, her conduits after all. Then the Enchantress simply vanished.

Her servants, dazed and living objects now, read their blinded Princess the message left behind.

But all soon despaired, for the 'instructions' were a riddle they could not decipher. Terrified and enraged, the Princess accused them of lying to her, taking advantage of her, mocking-

They all soon quavered and retreated when the rose she held in her hand grew and stretched across the floors, vines threatening to pierce them with their thorns.

Instead the Princess made the rose lock the library shut, and left the bloom in there, along with the now useless mirror.

Eventually, she had the rose's vines grow, twining around her wretched castle and shutting it all away from the rest of the world. Still, she ventured out-even though she could no longer see it, the Princess remembered her own looks, knew how superficial people were. There was business she still had to attend to in the outside world, things that could still be of use. Her pleasant dreams of travel to _see_ the world, however, were gone.

Of course, her servants stayed behind. Their looks would not draw the right attention. But finally after one of the teacup children whined, she gave them the mirror to watch the world with.

The older servants, the most loyal, had offered to read to her, if she only opened the library up. The Princess steadfastly refused them-it was not what she wanted. It would not be the same. Already, she could no longer truly imagine the pictures in her head.

But as the years passed, the Princess grew more cold and unfeeling. Though her magic was limited by her blindness (and the self-doubt that grew from it, though she refused to ever show it), she still practiced as best she could-whatever the Enchantress said, she still wanted more. Would have more. Power. Power was all she could strive toward now.

The one, taunting hope was the Enchantress' riddle, rather morbid in itself. For all her knowledge and desire for it, the Princess could not comprehend its disjointed lyric.

The Princess despaired. Wished the Enchantress could have just cut her eyes out, instead of leaving them whole, but so clearly broken.


	2. Chapter 1

Title: inverted reflection [1/?]

Summary: A common boy can't escape his fate. (Selective Role Reversal AU of the Animated Disney Film)

Disclaimer: I don't own Beauty and the Beast or anything related to it.

Ch. 1

"Maman…Maman…Maman, are you there…are you all right?..."

The boy felt as if he were cooling off from a burn that still stung all over his body. It was the cold, surely, the blizzard had come on so quickly, and then Phillipe had gotten trapped along with their cart and the wolves-

"Maman," he whimpered, his voice hoarse and unwieldy.

"I'm here, Alphonse," she finally said, though her voice sounded very distant-but there was her hand, cool and comforting on his forehead, ruffling his hair. "Everything's all right."

But her voice shook.

Alphonse tried to raise his head, his mother's hand slipped, to his nose-he stared at it, her fingers splayed on something flat, extending from his face.

His nose wasn't that big or long.

His eyes went to his mother. Long, dark, curly hair framing her green eyes, so often worn these days-horrified now...

Alphonse shuffled around, moving his hand up to-the boy took a good look at it.

It was a clawed paw. Couldn't be his. But when he made to wiggle his fingers slowly, those thick digits responded.

"Alphonse..."

The concern in his mother's voice got to him-adrenaline rushing everywhere, Alphonse reared back. (He vaguely noticed they were in an unfamiliar tent, and dimly heard the sounds of strangers, men outside, some neighing horses.) Mistake, as he was now rapidly denying the very odd sensation of something dragging from his behind, how his arms remained on the floor and he was backpedalling on all fours.

The boy's eyes fell on a water bowl with a cloth soaking in it. He immediately tore the cloth out and looked at the water's reflection in it-that too was a mistake, for he screamed. Tried to block out from his mind how it sounded more like a roar, something beastly but no less emotional). He'd made such an animal noise of fear seconds after he'd got past his still blue eyes (_your father's eyes_, Maman had said, fondly-now grieving and bitter since his death weeks ago) and saw the rest of his-oh god, it couldn't be him-it couldn't-what had he-?

Immediately his mother enveloped him in a crushing hug. Stiff with shock, he soon trembled with it and curled himself in his mother's arms. Alphonse tried to make himself as small as possible, tried to ignore the way his tail curled, tried very hard to keep breathing (but not to cry).

###

"Alphonse, stop that," Evelyn ordered her son, catching him pulling at his bandages with his-god, his fangs and claws.

Her transformed boy obeyed with a dejected look, curling back up on his pallet, closing his eyes. Evelyn wished he wouldn't, his eyes (_Adam's sky blue_, and her heart throbbed) were the only thing completely familiar. Even her child's voice didn't sound quite the same.

Trying to keep calm, but distantly realizing she just sounded cold, Evelyn asked, "Do you remember how you were injured?"

His eyes didn't snap open to look at her, like she hoped. Alphonse turned away, muffling into his pallet, "No-just that you were pinned under the cart-"

Evelyn closed her eyes finally, fighting back the urge to scream at him, _I told you to run_...

"-and I was trying to keep the wolves away from you-"

_With a stick, no less, you stupid boy, you tried to fight off wolves with a damned_ _**twig**_—

"-and I-I-" Then Alphonse slowly sat up, and Evelyn watched her son's new profile: snout and horns and dog-like ears, his back slightly hunched, tufts of dark brown fur-fur all over, every inch…but his eyes were the same, yet dazed and glassy, with something dawning in them.

"-I made a wish, Maman. I-I didn't want to lose you like Father-I'd, I'd do anything-"

The boy looked down at his new claws, still staring at them as if they were a deformity, some infection.

Evelyn didn't know what her boy was getting at. Simply chalked it up to shock. She knew she wasn't handling hers very well. But she had to comfort her boy, she'd do anything for that too-she realized the truth would be useful, no matter her regret for it.

"You saved my life, dear." Though she'd give anything for him to have done otherwise, her own life gone for his own complete well-being.

"You…changed, then you kept them at bay. You didn't seem quite conscious of what you were doing, so perhaps that's why you can't quite remember." Evelyn would not expand any further. Not of her overwhelming fear with everything happening so fast-her son shifting and breaking before her eyes, the horrible noises of pain and mindless rage he made, the viciousness and bestiality he fought with, his meager clothes now rags on him. His blue eyes familiar and alien at the same time, filled with fury and blood thirst. Her son, her son, it was her son, her only son-still outnumbered by wolves (even if he now matched them in size), and they tore at him as much as he clawed back, his (oh god, _his_) and their blood staining the snow...

"W-wait-I think I remember-" Alphonse squeezed his eyes shut, his ears flattening, and Evelyn tried not to wince. Her boy opened his eyes, shaking his head, "No, I dunno, it's all still blurry-except I-but I heard something pop in the air-"

"That was-"

Evelyn paused as the tent flap opened. Instinctively she blocked her son from sight. When she spoke, Alphonse noted the tone in her voice, and slumped down low to the ground, his ears flat, and he made sure not to make a noise.

"Yes?" Evelyn looked down at the dark haired boy, not much older than her son.

The boy's blue eyes (an icier shade than Alphonse's) irresistibly slid away from her, trying to see behind her.

Perhaps against his better judgment, Alphonse peeked around his mother too-caught sight of the boy momentarily, their eyes meeting for a second, before Maman readjusted her stance before him.

"Gaston, what is it?"

The boy shook himself, then said with an air of a self-important messenger, "My grandfather wants to speak with you again."

Evelyn's patience wasn't ideal under the best of circumstances, and she was finally losing hers after everything. "Is he so infirm that he cannot come see me himself?"

She glared at the boy, knowing she shouldn't take it out on him. But although the old grizzly hunter was scarred and graying with a full beard, Evelyn could see beneath all that how he could've grown from someone deeply resembling Gaston-and the thought of the older man just made her skin crawl at the moment. (He may've saved them, but the way he stared...)

The boy opened his mouth, glaring, but Evelyn had already turned her back on him, snapping, "We can speak if he wishes, but I'm not leaving this tent."

"But-"

"You can go now."

Grumbling, Gaston stomped out, and Alphonse watched him curiously until his mother fitted something into his warped hands.

"Some bread."

"'m not hungry."

She shot him a glare, and her son gulped, his ears flattening once more. "I'm not even going to tell you once," his mother warned in a flat voice.

Alphonse tore off a piece, his fangs working over the stale bread.

"Maman, what is going on?" The boy asked, very quietly in between bites of his meager dinner.

She answered just as quietly, "You heard shots. You had held back the wolves long enough for a hunter, Jean de Havoc-that boy, Gaston, that was his grandfather-he-he finished them off with his rifle." Evelyn tried desperately to keep her voice calm when she continued, "You fell unconscious after that, and Jean helped me bring you back here to his men's camp. They've been kind, offering us shelter and food."

Evelyn did not tell him how she was thankful it was only Jean that had gotten a full view of everything-specifically, her transformed boy still in ragged clothes. She'd finally gotten her leg free, and had rushed over, throwing her cloak over him and struggling to pick him up. The old hunter had assisted further, actually carrying her while she held her son close to her chest.

But Jean had called him her dog, and so did his grandson, and the rest of Jean's men.

Evelyn had run with it, keeping her cloak over Alphonse the whole time. She was a naturally wary person, and every instinct and ill theory in her head compelled her to hide the truth behind her son's new nature for as long as possible.

Despicable and disgusting as it was, Evelyn felt passing off her newly transformed boy as her dog was the safest option.

Just in case, she'd stripped him of his clothes, which also helped tremendously in tending to the wounds the wolves had left on his body. She'd noticed that though fur covered it, her boy's masculinity was still retained-and with that, she carefully replaced what was left of his breeches, his newfound tail having torn through. For now, there was only so far she was willing to go with her charade, she didn't want to completely rob her son of his dignity in exchange for his safety just yet. If she just kept him covered under the blanket Gaston had salvaged from their cart, that should be enough.

But she had no idea how long she could keep it up. The hunters couldn't help but notice how unusually concerned and protective she was of her 'hound,' and she worried some had gotten a good look at his face, maybe even a glimpse of his horns, and thought him too odd of a dog...

And then Jean de Havoc himself-he had provided her cover story, but the way he'd said it and based on further interaction, Evelyn was convinced he suspected something was off. How could he not, he had seen Alphonse wear clothes-who in their right mind dresses their 'dog?' And though the old hunter had only one cold hard eye (same shade as Gaston's), an ugly scar obscuring the other, he'd been the closest to see her emotions at her most intense, her motherly terror at its fever pitch.

Evelyn's gratitude for the man grappled with her paranoia of him-she kept getting the distinct feeling he was toying with her. His curiosity with her 'pup' worried her. Yes, he had helped protect her most precious thing, her only child-but would he continue to be an ally, or turn on them once he knew the whole truth? Was he already scheming behind their backs?

Evelyn sighed deeply, looking down at her son sadly. No, she had to tell her Alphonse some of this, at least enough to have him on his guard as well.

Her hands clenched when he flinched and looked away, shame filling his face-but she was more ashamed, when suddenly no words of comfort came to mind. (He clearly had misunderstood her despairing sigh, and yet could find no words to articulate her true grief, to reassure him.)

Instead she pushed on with her original warning, steeling herself to ask too much of Alphonse-but it was for the best, she only wanted him safe.

###

Alphonse was determined to follow Maman's instructions, she'd been so serious-but it still made something twist real bad in his chest.

But Maman had said he just had to be quiet and stay under the covers, keep out of sight, and everything would be fine. Pretend he wasn't really human. Maman had fixated on that, insisted it was only 'pretend,' he had to pretend, then he'd be safe and the other hunters wouldn't react poorly, though she didn't really explain what she meant by that when he asked.

But the boy found it harder and harder to keep quiet when he heard his mother's and this Jean's voices outside (he'd heard her call the other man by that name with a certain cool politeness in her voice that he heard Maman use with people she didn't trust or like).

It wasn't like they were arguing-they had just started talking, but his mother sounded terse. But in a gravelly voice, Jean had sounded amused, saying, "Infirm, am I? Ashamed that you and your _pup_ had to be rescued by someone past their prime, Madame?"

"I thought I told you I wouldn't be leaving the tent under any circumstances?"

"Unless with your 'dog,' of course-rather loyal, aren't you?" His gravelly voice chuckled. "I suppose that's to be expected-your hound was very dedicated to protecting you, never seen a beast that fierce-"

_Beast_. The boy curled into himself, his ears flattening, his paws covering them. It helped, he didn't hear much after that, and even fell into an exhausted sleep.

Wished he was human again. Wished his father were here too.

But none of those came true.

**Notes: I hoped I made it clear, but if not, here it is: the Princess is AU!Belle. So, I really wanted to parallel but still do twists on the gossip/exposition scene. But I just can't get it to work the way I want it too, and I can really appreciate how brilliant that next scene after the prologue really is, with effectively introducing Belle and Gaston through, etc. Still, I considered that my exposition requires more time and space than the original movie intro, which essentially only needs to get across Belle's bookworm status, her oddity in the village, her wit and desire for adventure, and Gaston's motive to marry Belle. In this fanfic, peasant Beast's situation is a little more complicated and needs more space, expansion, etc.-and I kinda want to give it that since I love the Beast. I did already expand Princess Belle's prologue version way more, and of course made it, well, different and a little more unique to the reversal. And I must confess Beast is my favorite-so there'll be a lot of him for a while? XD And I'm just ignoring other fanon names Adam and Vincent and going with Alphonse…since I really liked the name and was pleased to find it was French too. And his parents names are Adam and Evelyn, playing with all sorts of names conventions, especially the most obvious one.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Title: inverted reflection [2/?]**

Summary: A hunter's suspicious, a cursed boy adjusts, and a desperate mother hatches a scheme. (Selective Role Reversal AU of the Animated Disney Film)

**Notes: Thanks for all the comments, hope you like this chapter. Rose Emeraldfay: Yes, Princess Belle just goes blind. (But with her situation, it's really not the best thing—I think she'd rather be a monster that could still read than blinded.) Also, you really do have a point about the enchanted objects—they need more fic! It'll be a while before they show up again, but I'd like them to still have a big part in this AU.**

Ch. 2

The woman besieged by wolves-introduced as Madam Evelyn de Keane-was a stunning specimen to the widowed Jean de Havoc, despite her overall distress.

He chalked it up to his wife's death softening him, making him odd-he found even her brief outbursts and stubbornness amusing, rather than something to quell and shake his head over.

Oh, she was appropriately grateful, but had her guard up-very protective of the odd creature dressed queerly in clothes and with horns who had fought so fiercely to protect her from the wolves.

Far ahead of his men, Jean had stumbled upon them first-and hadn't immediately interfered. He was shocked, certainly-yet part of that wasn't just her creature's strange appearance, but his viciousness. Jean was interested to see how it fended off the wolves.

It did so admirably, but it soon reached the point that both the beast and its mistress and that neighing horse would die without intervention, and so he cocked his rifle and fired.

The wolves fell, and a second later so did the twisted canine as it fell unconscious, but not before Jean caught a flash of blue out of eyes that looked eerily human.

He was seized with a grudging respect when the unnamed Evelyn then had extricated herself from the wreckage of her cart and half-limped, half-ran to her creature, heedless of any injury she bore, the blood running down her leg.

Instinctively, Jean was reminded of Josette with their son Serge, the way she threw her cloak over the beast, tried to carry him-as he dismounted his horse and treaded through the snow toward them, he mulled over that comparison. It was all surreal, but right before his eyes-and what he saw didn't fit a mistress and her dog.

Still, it was what he told his men, his grandson Gaston and the other boys that had come on the hunting trip. That it was simply a widow travelling alone, with her hound as her only protection.

Jean de Havoc was of the opinion that a person was intelligent-people, on the other hand, could act too quickly before learning all the facts and using them to their advantage, wasting what could possibly be a golden opportunity.

Evelyn and he had talked, in brief intervals, but before she finally left it was a veritable full-blown conversation-and their most revealing, if toxic.

"Madame, why would you dress your 'pup' in such clothes, as if he were human?" He'd finally asked, bluntly.

He gave her credit for sniffing and turning up her nose, lying as best she could through her teeth, "It's the latest fashion where I come from. I'm not surprised it hasn't stretched to such small provincial villages in this part of France."

Laughing, Jean said, "You speak as if you were a noble, Madame." His eyes lingered on the state of her clothes-even if she hadn't been through a storm, he could still tell how meager they were, even less than most back in his village, Molyneaux. "I'm afraid lies do not become you."

"You're the one who's making presumptions, Monsieur," she said, finally turning her back on him.

In a low voice, Jean finally said, "What boy spoke with you in the tent, Madame? Surely not Gaston, or the other lads-even if they're not mine, I know their voices, and I did not recognize the one that snapped at you the other day."

"I'm afraid Monsieur is mistaken in his old age," Evelyn said curtly, yet there was the barest hint of a tremble in her voice.

She couldn't make her departure quick enough with her hastily prepared cart and horse and 'dog' after that-but if Jean were a right judge of people and of this woman, she would be back, with her beast in tow.

Jean just had to wait.

###

The days, the weeks, past by in a blur for the child Beast after they had left the hunters.

His mother and he were at a loss of what exactly happened, and even worse, how to reverse it. They'd concluded that it had to be-as unlikely as it would've seemed before-the work of some enchantment. They just couldn't come up with any other explanation. But again, magic had been a make-believe fairy tale-something Alphonse's parents would read to him. They had no idea where to go to, whom to turn to, for any solutions to their problem.

And when one inn had finally heard Alphonse speak, gotten one good look at him, they were cruelly reminded that any chances of finding someone with any useful information was unlikely.

The Beast was rapidly trying to forget the details already. Especially since it'd been his fault.

He thought he'd never be in the mood to play again, but he'd longingly looked out the window at children his age and some younger ones playing in the snow. Alphonse had enough presence of mind (and a good dose of fear and self-loathing) to convince himself that he could go play by himself outside in the snow when the other children left, and when his mother was out again looking for another job. (They'd been travelling in the first place for that-in the wake of father's death, Maman had been struggling to make ends meet, even with Alphonse doing his best to help. The fire that devastated their home was the last straw. She'd finally decided they had to find a new home.)

And so Alphonse had stepped out, slipping a hooded cloak over himself and trying to make sure everything was covered. He'd begun making a snowman in earnest, when a very small girl walked over and watched his growing sculpture with awe.

She'd been looking so earnest, with a thumb in her mouth, Alphonse had asked if she'd like to help. And when she eagerly nodded, he showed her how to shape the snow. His paws had shown a little-but the toddler hadn't been afraid, and he was a little encouraged. Felt normal, like nothing horrible had happened.

The girl smiled up at him, totally unafraid, and Alphonse felt galvanized. He gingerly lifted her up with part of the snowman's head in her arms, and held her high enough so that she could place it on top of the body.

As he did so, the hood over his face slipped off.

Above him, a scream sounded and he dropped the girl in alarm. The toddler immediately cried, shrieking, and the child Beast was immediately swamped with guilt. He only shot the adult woman who'd screamed from her window in the inn one look before he leaned down toward the girl. He looked her over for any scratches and bruises, trying to sooth her, saying he was sorry over and over again.

Alphonse thought she seemed okay, and she was down to just sniffles-then something strong and hard kicked him in the side, and he tumbled into the snowman, the wind knocked out of him.

As he gasped in the snow, he heard the toddler cry again, and through an eye cracked open, found her swept up into the arms of her mother, who loudly tried to comfort her over her shrieks.

His eyes screwed shut as he felt a boot kick into his side, and then his stomach again and again. Alphonse finally bit back, burying his teeth in the man's foot (it was either that or vomit all over the snow).

But then something else slammed across his head, and it was then he realized he was surrounded, like-

_anything, __**anything**__, tear out that thing's throat, and then the other and the other and the other all over the place didn't matter, he'd do anything, don't hurt her, Maman_

-like with the wolves before, but he was completely caught off guard this time.

And the wolves didn't have any ropes to toss around his neck and pull tight and make him gag and oh god, he's really going to throw up. Except another rope wrapped around his mouth, snapping his snout shut, and the men dragged him away and into a shed, locking it shut and leaving him alone in the dark.

As he tried to fight off unconsciousness, Alphonse heard them mutter and whisper.

"Did you get a good look at that thing?"

"What do you think, it bit my goddamned foot, and my daughter-"

"Is she all right?"

"Katherine says she's all right, but..."

"Lucky, lucky girl."

"What the hell was it?"

"A wolf?"

"Looked like a bear-small one, like a cub."

"Neither of those have damned horns!"

"Or talk, Lucille said she heard it talk-"

"That's impossible-"

"Goddamned _horns_, what beast has horns like that in these parts?"

The child Beast finally slumped down, and blacked out.

###

When he'd come to, Alphonse found to his intense relief that he was on Phillipe behind Maman on her saddle, their wagon trailing behind.

Maman had tended to his wounds when they made camp on the edge of the forest far from any settlement. She made him eat, and sang a lullaby he hadn't heard from her in ages. Then she settled him into bed, but she never asked how he ended up beaten and locked in the shed, and he never said a word about it, nor did he ask her exactly how she got him out.

But that night, Alphonse could not get to sleep. Just laid awake. He could not imagine any way to return to normal. He could not imagine anyone who'd want to help. Someone who wouldn't look upon him with fear and loathing and strike out with a harsh hand.

His mother looked down at him-with concern, and love. And something broken (something he knew, deep down, that _he_ broke).

"You need your rest."

He just stared blankly up at her.

Lowering herself down, she held him gently, carefully. Ran a hand down his furred back. She lowly hummed that old lullaby, and slowly, Alphonse's eyes dropped shut.

###

They stayed on the forest's edge while he recuperated. The child Beast was thankful that at least didn't take long. He seemed to heal faster now, and that was something.

Alphonse was even well enough to get food by himself, and for mother too. He first hunted down some rabbits, which Maman proudly cooked over the fire.

That was something else, he'd never really hunted before-except for traps he'd set for foxes that tried to eat their chickens and such. Father hunted when he was home, and he'd take Alphonse with him sometimes, so that the boy could observe, and learn-he'd promised that soon, soon, he'd let his son try to take something down...

But now hunting seemed kinda easy in this strange new body, regardless of what he learned. It's not like he ever really focused hard to recall father's lessons-it seemed like a very overwhelming, very eerie instinct that compelled him. After all, it seemed very natural now to press his nose against the dirt and exhale and inhale and shift through the scents, follow them...

Encouraged, he tracked further, and eventually brought down a deer.

"No more, sweetheart-we can save some," said his mother, and Alphonse paused over the rest of the deer meat.

"_I_ got it," he snapped, pouting.

Maman glared, but Alphonse didn't feel like backing down. But then she asked, slightly worried, "Are you still hungry?"

"Obviously," the child Beast snapped.

Maman didn't shoot him another glare over his insolence. Instead, her eyes grew more worried, and she glanced at the deer meat, then back to him. "Do you need to eat more? More than usual? Have you been feeling hungrier?"

"I-" and Alphonse paused, blinking. He wasn't sure. Had he been eating more? Did he need more food after being changed into a monster?

"I-I dunno."

Maman was quiet for a time, considering. Finally she said, "We're leaving tomorrow. For now, I think we should save the rest of the food for later. But let me know when you get hungry, and then you can have more."

The child Beast agreed, now feeling vaguely mortified, remembering how he'd tried to avoid eating before and Maman wouldn't let him, and now he was taking more than was necessary and was being foolish and unmindful of travel rations.

He felt worse when his mother later said, "It's all right, you know-you may need more food-"

"'Cause I'm a beast now?" Alphonse felt embarrassed at how petulant and sullen his voice sounded.

Maman snapped, "No, because you're a growing boy."

They didn't talk the rest of the night.

###

The child Beast woke up to the sound of someone heaving loudly in the morning.

"Maman?"

Groggily, he stumbled out of his makeshift pallet on all fours. His ears pricked up, triangle-like, all of him growing more alert when he found his mother kneeling in the grass, a mess of bile beside her, and she wiping her mouth clean on her sleeve.

Evelyn sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up like that."

Shaking his head, Alphonse asked, trying not to sound too scared, "Are you okay?" (He remembered his friend Odette back home, how her mother got sick and died years ago.)

Giving a smile that didn't reach her eyes, Evelyn gently reached out and ruffled the fur between her son's ears (even now, she still did such gestures with him). "I'm fine dear, just a little under the weather. Nothing to worry about."

But the next time they made camp, there was a village in sight, and after telling Alphonse to stay with Phillipe while she went to look for a new map, Evelyn found a midwife to talk to.

After the other woman said her piece, Evelyn grimly nodded, saying in a dazed voice, "Yes, it's not unlike the first time, with my son."

"He'll be an older brother then," said the midwife, compelled to comfort this stranger and make her countenance less brooding.

"Yes, he will be," Evelyn said distractedly as she left, but not before giving the midwife her quiet thanks.

###

"We need to find you a trade," Evelyn told her son with utter conviction, and he shot her a disbelieving scowl.

"Who would take me on? Who'd want something like me as an apprentice-"

"Don't call yourself a 'thing'-you've too much mouth for that," snapped his mother. She continued, "And a hunter like Jean de Havoc would be interested."

Alphonse stared, then finally thought he comprehended what she was getting at. Anger washed over him. "I'm not pretending to be a dog again!"

Evelyn made Phillipe stop, and she looked at Alphonse blankly, her child looking back at her with fierce, blue eyes.

Firmly, Evelyn said, "I know you're not. And Monsieur Havoc will know that too."

His mother sounded so confident Alphonse deflated and slumped down, eyeing the road blankly as Phillipe continued his way.

Softly, Evelyn said as they continued on their way, "We don't know what happened-I just know you saved my life; it isn't fair-but the world is cruel; it doesn't seem reversible-so we have to adapt." Sighing, she murmured, "_You'll_ have to adapt."

The child Beast turned away, looking at the other side of the road. He didn't want to hear this, not now-but he couldn't help but listen.

It helped, though, when he started thinking it was like what his father did before, serving as a soldier. He had done his duty-and Alphonse knew he had one to his mother, but maybe this could be another.

**Notes: Confession time-blind Princess Belle probably won't be showing up for a while. This is like peasant!Beast's extended exposition song-except not in song and it's not just his POV but others' POV on him...which I guess is still similar to Belle's intro/exposition song after all. I'm just trying to develop his situation before Princess Belle does return to flip the situation on its head, but when she's back, she's there to stay since we get into the core of the fic with our dynamic duo. (And I'm just really enjoying developing his circumstances with other details like characterization and such.)**


End file.
